


Eight Seconds

by dyingpoet, RottingManifesto



Category: The Outsiders - All Media Types
Genre: Blood and Injury, Canon Era, Canon-Typical Violence, Intimacy, M/M, Post-Canon, Rodeo Competitions, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 22:40:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28946037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dyingpoet/pseuds/dyingpoet, https://archiveofourown.org/users/RottingManifesto/pseuds/RottingManifesto
Summary: If Dallas Winston took pride in anything it was racing and fighting, and Johnny Cade always managed to get a pretty clear view of him doing both.
Relationships: Johnny Cade/Dallas Winston
Comments: 5
Kudos: 27





	Eight Seconds

Johnny never much liked rodeos, not the actual competition part of it, he liked horses good enough and it was alright if you had buddies in a race to watch, but it wasn’t his scene. Half the money coming in from them were booze sales and by the time anyone worth watching came up you couldn’t throw a stone without hitting someone blasted off their ass and itching for a fight. Sorta made sense why Dallas was so hung up on them, when he thought about it. 

“Hey, Johnnykid, take this.”

Two-bit, who lord knew got drunker than anything at these things without shelling out a dime, came up behind Johnny, Pony a few steps behind him, and shoved a beer can in his hand. It was warm and wrapped up in a paper bag like he was shooting real liquor. “Man, where’d you get this anyway?”

He brought it up to his face and sniffed it, recoiling once he did. He wasn’t some lightweight, the shit was just _old_ , smelled like it’d been left out all day until good ole Two-bit stumbled across it. It wouldn’t be too off base to guess that was exactly how the red-haired greaser had found it. 

“Don’t you worry none ‘bout my liquor,” Two-bit chided, wagging a finger in his face and putting on a voice like he was a schoolteacher. “I’m _supplied_.”

Johnny connected eyes with Pony and they both made a face. When Johnny didn’t make to drink any, Two-bit snatched it back and took a long gulp, letting out a whoop when he came up for air. “Shit, yeah that ain’t good, but it does the trick alright.”

Pony just looked at Two-bit wordlessly, with a disgusted look on his face, and Johnny cleared his throat. “Hey, when’s Dally goin’ up-”

A sharp elbow in the back and then he was tumbling forward with a mouthful of Two-bit’s t-shirt. The older greaser pulled up back with a hand on his collar and kept it there. That laughing look in his eyes was gone and he was staring hard at the guy who’d shoved Johnny. 

He recognized the guy in a split second, which didn’t do much other than set off his nerves and get his heart going like he was just off a sprint. He was a tall, mean looking hood, with a scar jutting out from under his hairline, which was overgrown, longer than any greaser wore it and without any hair oil. One of the Brumley boys for sure, but new to the scene and without the accent. Johnny couldn’t place the name but he’d jumped one of Tim Shepard’s guys a few weeks ago and started up a rivalry between the two neighborhoods that usually managed to keep peace. 

Two-bit was still as stone, not glaring at the guy so much as staring him down, and even Ponyboy looked tuff enough next to him, slouching and looking at the guy around a stick. 

“You oughta watch where yer goin’, pal,” Two-bit offered after a moment, grip moving around Johnny’s shoulders but still tight. “Awful stiff place to be pissin’ folks off.”

“Really? Never would’a thought.” The kid was looking at Johnny now in that sharp, piercing way you only ever really got from guys like Tim Shepard. Or Dallas. “Best be on my way then, huh?”

He stalked off without making another move and Two-bit dropped his arm around Johnny as soon as he did, watching carefully over the crowd at the back of the guy’s jacket, making sure he really had split. 

Pony came right up to Johnny and offered a smoke, lighting it for him too when he accepted. “You scrap with him or somethin’ before, Johnny? I ain’t seen him ‘cept for that one time with Tim, nearly a fair fight too.”

“Guy’s an outta-towner, got some screws loose,” Two-bit cut in, apparently satisfied the kid had walked off. “Don’t sweat it, and _hey_ , we got bigger plans than the local JD, huh Ponyboy?”

Johnny didn’t have a thought about any plans, and when he looked at Pony he raised an eyebrow to see the younger greaser barely hiding a blush. “What plans?”

“ _Women_ plans, Johnny,” Two-bit bragged, grinning like an idiot, broader when Johnny choked on his smoke and started up coughing. “Mighty surprising, I know.”

“We’re goin’ over to watch Cherry and Marcia,” Pony offered when Johnny raised an eyebrow at him in question. “They’re barrel racin’, pretty good at it too.”

Two-bit nodded and then shot Johnny a funny look, squinting his eyes. “Y’know we was gonna go by ourselves, but you probably oughta come too John, with that kid gunnin’ for ya and all.”

See, Johnny was sort of torn. On one hand, whatever the hell the Brumley kid’s name was ran up on him like he was looking to start something, and it was common knowledge guy’s in that outfit fought dirty and until they were damn well finished. On the other hand, watching two of his buddies watch a couple of girls and then go all sweet on them sounded like a drag.

He was saved from answering though when the cracked out speaker that sounded off who was riding in what came back on, heavy with static.

_“Ladies ‘n gentlemen, we still got ‘bout ten minutes to go, then we’ll be startin’ back on bull riding with number fifty-six Dallas Winston…”_

The announcer was just barely holding back the words from slurring together, they were selling Bud’s for fifty cents a cup and the folks working there drank it nearly as much as the people that came out. Two-bit got a good laugh out of that and both Johnny and Pony shared a look. They sometimes thought Two-bit plain forgot he was drunk past a certain point. 

“I think the announcer’s more hammered than Two.” Pony hid a smile and ducked when Two-Bit swung. 

“Watch yer mouth, kid, I can still hear!”

“Sure you can.” 

Johnny watched as Pony and Two laughed at took turns slapping or shoving one another. He still felt torn, but there was some comfort with knowing that he wouldn’t be alone in the pit stain of Hell known as the rodeo. Well, you couldn’t say that it lacked ambiance. If you could ignore the fact that said ambiance was the drunken voice of some poor ass and horses going off like they were losing their minds. He’d never say it and if he did nobody would ever let him live it down but he always felt sort of bad for the poor things in these places. 

Anyway, Dallas was coming up fast and he usually got his cash and cut out as soon as the race was over, Johnny could probably catch him afterwards. None of them made a real big deal about watching Dallas if they had other races they were trying to get to, something Dallas was more keen on than the rest of them. He claimed it was because he didn’t need, “No screamin’ kids throwin’ me off my game,” but Johnny had half a mind to say he just got nervy knowing they were watching. 

“Kid, have you made up yer mind yet?” Two-Bit clapped a hand on Johnny’s shoulder, startling him out of his daze. “Or are ya jus’ gonna stand around in the sun all day?”

Johnny thought for a second. Ah, hell, his nerves were pretty shot from earlier still, and he didn’t reckon it’d be hanging around by himself. Might as well wait for Dal and watch some barrel racing too. “Sure, I’ll come along.”

“Great! Yer gonna love it. Cherry’s pretty good,” Two elbowed Pony, “ain’t she? You oughta know, with watchin’ her like that all the time.”

Ponyboy’s face went red and he shot a look to Johnny. Johnny bit back a laugh. 

Two-Bit gave one of those grins like he was about to do something stupid. “Shall we get going, my dears?” His fake British accent was too shitty not to laugh at. 

“Only if you vow never to do that again.” 

“I make no promises and tell no lies,” Two-bit replied smoothly, and Johnny let him start dragging him off to wherever Cherry and Marcia were riding. “‘Sides, it’s a damn miracle Marcia’s still playin’ ‘round with the idea of goin’ out with me. Y’all hear she broke up with the soc?”

“Yes,” Johnny and Pony said at the same time, monotone. Two-bit hadn’t shut up since he heard that one. Johnny had a feeling Angela Shepard told him just to stir the pot, she didn’t have a damn reason to help out Two-bit, and it had definitely gotten him riled up. 

They actually made it there halfway through Marcia’s race, and Two-bit made up for lost time but whistled as loud and hard as she could every time the girl made a turn. She was pretty good, scored pretty well after she got off too. He could barely pay half attention to Cherry’s run at it though, he heard the shot go off for Dallas’ race back where they’d came from and was trying his best to tell how he did based on the crowd. 

Bull riding was short, eight seconds a ride for anything to count, but nobody was screaming or calling the cops so by the time Dallas’ ride was over he figured the hood hadn’t snapped his neck. Shifting a little on his feet, he elbowed Two-bit and jerked his head over towards the bull pen. “I’m gonna go catch Dal ‘fore he goes.”

Pony was too wrapped up in watching Cherry to hear, but Two-bit nodded and scanned the crowd behind Johnny again. “Sure you don’t want me to go with ya?”

“I’ll be fine, man, it ain’t far.”

If Johnny didn’t have a switch on him he probably would’ve let Two-bit walk with him, but he didn’t wanna tear him away from Marcia, a guy like Two-bit doesn’t get very many shots with a girl like that. 

“Alright, head back if ya don’t find him, I’ll give ya a ride back.”

Johnny nodded and ducked when Two-bit made to mess up his hair, walking away fast before the greaser put him in a headlock or something in front of everyone. He didn’t have much in the way of shame, around anybody. 

It was hard getting near the stables, especially since Dallas had been nearly last to ride and the crowds were starting to push past him to get going. He cursed himself for being so jumpy on the walk over, anyone brushed past him too far and his hand jerked toward his back pocket all on its own. Too many cops hanging around here to be pulling a blade on nothing in the middle of the day. 

He smelled the stables before reaching them and wrinkled his nose instinctively. If Two-Bit’s cologne was Bud Lite, Dallas’ was horse shit and smoke. A few idle cowboys and their mistresses hung around drinking and paid no mind to Johnny, who slipped into the back where Dallas was. Dallas Winston cursed up a storm while fumbling with a can opener. 

“Fucking— ah, shit! Fuck!”

“Dal?” Johnny gulped back a laugh. He didn’t want to get hit in the face with a can opener. “Are ya busy? I can come back later—”

“Nah, kid. It’s jus’ this damn thing. Don’t worry about it.” Dallas tossed the half-open can to the side and chucked the opener at one of the cowboys’ flings. “I got the money. Let’s beat it. Anyone waitin’ for us?”

“Unless you count Valance, no,” Johnny shrugged and fished in his pocket for a cigarette. “Got any Kools on ya?”

Dallas let out a short laugh. “The redhead bitch? An’ me? You’re crazy, Johnnykid. An’ here,” he tossed him an unopened pack. “Found it near the stands earlier. Nearly smoked ‘em all myself.”

“Thanks.” Johnny grabbed a lighter and shook the box before opening it. They didn’t look poisoned or nothing. Even if they were, it didn’t matter. He tossed the box back to Dallas and brought one up to his lips and lit it. 

Cigs helped kill the nerves forming in his stomach. He didn’t know why they were there, but it was bothering him. Dallas didn’t seem to notice and Johnny was grateful for that. 

“Ya ready, kid?”

Johnny nodded. He didn’t like staying here for any longer than needed. “Yeah.”

* * *

“My head’s gonna _kill_ me tomorrow,” Dallas rubbed the back of his neck. It oughta be funny, seeing a Yankee with cowboy boots in the middle of Tulsa, Oklahoma. Johnny kept his thoughts to himself and watched as Dal recounted all 8 seconds on that bull. 

“That thing _hated_ me the moment it saw me, I’m tellin’ ya, kid. The minute I got on ‘im, he was seein’ straight red. Glory, it’s a miracle he didn’ stomp on my neck on the way out.” Dallas was half-smiling. It was nothing compared to the stories Johnny heard him tell about New York, but it had its own death-defying charm. Everything Dallas did had that sort of edge to it. 

He stomped out his cigarette butt before they turned the corner. “Sorry I wasn’t there. Two an’ Pony dragged me over to see those two Soc girls barrel-racing. They ain’t half-bad, I’m jus’ not the rodeo-type.” 

“Of course they did,” Dallas rolled his eyes. “I ain’t shocked. I think Two’s got the hots for that Marcia chick. Not sure about Ponyboy, kid’s too quiet for his own good.”

“He’s fourteen, he’ll grow up some.” For as much as Johnny was the smallest of the gang, it didn’t take a genius to know that Pony was the kid of the group. He was too quiet and too whiny to be anything older than fifteen. No one blamed the kid for that, but it was still easy to tell. Johnny popped the collar of his jacket. “He oughta with Soda as his brother.”

Dal elbowed him in the arm. “He’ll learn how to pick up girls quicker than I got bucked off that bull in that case.” 

“I don’t doubt it,” Johnny replied, nearly choking on the end of his sentence when he collided with Dallas’ arm, shot straight out in front of him a split second earlier. “What’s the matter, Dal?”

Pony’d once described Tim Shepard as like an alley cat, which fit him alright, but Dallas felt more like some sort of stray dog, especially when he got ran up on like this. Feral. There was a joke somewhere in there about Tim and Dallas and cats and dogs but Johnny was more focused on Dallas, standing rigid, sort of straining like he was listening for something, before he let out a long whistle, low, but shooting up right at the end. 

It floated back from across the alley and Johnny’s hand went right for the switch. Dallas stiffened. “Well hey, Dally.”

It was the damn Brumley kid again, still alone, but he was looking between Dallas and Johnny in a way that sent the younger’s stomach rolling. Dallas would be fine normally in a skin fight, but after a race he was usually slower on account of all the soreness. If he felt off his game at all he didn’t show it. 

“Ain’t you got somewhere to be, Jay?”

Jay, that was the guy’s name. Strangely it didn’t fit. “Nah, ain’t no action anywhere else.”

He was talking in that way most guys did right before a rumble, like everything was some kind of threat even if it wasn’t. That kind of talk bored Dallas though, and Johnny kept his hand on the switch as the two of them looked at each other. Dallas didn’t even need to know why the guy was hassling Johnny and him to belt him a few times, hell, it was just after a bull ride, he was probably gunning for it, adrenaline and all. 

Dallas looked between Johnny and the clear shot to the street. Lookout. They could’ve just ganged the guy together but after the fight between him and Tim Shepard Dallas was probably itching to hold a fight over the older hood. If he was a betting man he’d have put two to one on Dallas. 

“You fuckin’ waitin’ for something then?” Dallas was nearly snarling, and they were on each other a second later, and Johnny did his best to divide his attention between them and the street, but gosh if Dallas was good at something else besides jockeying it was sure as hell fighting. 

It was pretty fair for the first few hits, Dallas took one straight to the jaw that sent him reeling enough that Johnny was a few seconds from jumping in. Dallas didn’t need it, getting hit good in a fight just pissed him off, and he got the Jay kid up against the wall hard enough Johnny could see the wind get knocked out of him. It was over when Dallas set in on kicking him, and then it was really over when tires screeched out on the street. 

“Shit, Dallas c’mon.” Johnny was already running when he saw the car, but it took a second to pry Dallas off the guy. A car door slammed and must’ve shocked Dallas back into reality, and he looked at Johnny with wild eyes, blood dripping from a gash on his lip and right up above his eyebrow, and grinned. Johnny thought he looked certifiable. “Alright, _go_ then.”

Johnny stumbled for a few steps when Dallas shoved him forward hard and then hit his stride, Dallas just keeping up and more or less leading them, dragging Johnny by the arm or the jacket whenever he could jerk around a corner and out of sight. He wasn’t sure anybody was following them, but if they found Jay bloodied against the wall like that they were bound to send a car out and the two of them would be picked up and in the back of the car before they got their rights read. 

“Where’re we goin’?” Johnny spit out after a few more minutes. It felt like he’d swallowed a match from running so hard, he had no idea how Dallas was doing it after a ride and a fight. 

They turned a corner and Dallas let his feet fall heavy until he came to a stop, grunting and pointing ahead instead of answering. Gosh there must be ten thousand different ways to end up at Buck’s, especially if you were running from the fuzz.

“C’mon.” Dallas grabbed Johnny by the bicep the second they were in the door and started for the stairs. Only him and Pony ever got hauled around like that here, too young looking to get served but old enough to have some drunk chick hanging off their arm if they hung around too long. Dallas didn’t like it much and kept the two of them either upstairs or out of the building completely. 

“Hey, what’d ya do to that Jay guy anyway?” Dallas finally asked once they got in his room and slammed the door, posture relaxing almost instantly. “‘Cause I know he wasn’t lookin’ fer me, I ain’t said a word in his direction since he came to town.”

Johnny kicked off his shoes and shrugged, sitting on the edge of Dallas’ bed while the other peeled off his shirt and went into his crappy bathroom. It didn’t have a door or any windows and smelled like mold more often than not, but Dallas had never been one to care. “Nothin’, he ran into me when I was with Two ‘n Pony, seemed like he was lookin’ for a fight right then but Two got ‘im to run off. Shit, I didn’t know his _name_ , dunno what problem he’s got with me.”

“Yeah, well at least I got to kick his ass,” Dallas said in a rare moment of pride. “Can’t wait to tell Tim, you hear he barely held up in a fight with him? Never thought I’d see the day, ‘specially since the guy was a pussy anyway, just like all’a them guys from Brumley.”

He went on and on, cursing Jay and his whole gang, mother, sister, everybody, as he cleaned up his face in the bathroom. Johnny listened, wrinkling his nose out of view at the real nasty curses, until Dallas came back out, face taped up and less bloody than before. “Anyway, fuck ‘em, you stayin’ here tonight? Probably ain’t a wise idea to go walkin’ someplace else, once that kid gets back home.”

Johnny shrugged. “Guess so, if ya don’t mind.”

“Be awful strange if I start to mind now, huh?” Dallas grinned again when he said it and Johnny rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I’m takin’ a shower, don’t fall asleep or nothin’ ‘fore I get out.”

That last bit was just to rile up Johnny since Dallas said he still fell asleep like he was in junior high, before eleven and like a rock straight through ‘til morning. Dallas could stay up until the sun rose and not break a sweat, and Johnny’d fallen asleep on more than one occasion when Dallas went down to the bar for a hour’s worth of liquor. 

He shut his eyes anyway when Dallas disappeared into the bathroom and the shower creaked on. It felt nice to shut his eyes after walking around with one eye out all day. Some god awful bluegrass tune was playing up through the floorboards, and if Johnny strained enough he could hear Dallas cussing a storm about it over the shower. 

It wasn’t until he felt a drop of water hit him smack on the face that he finally opened his eyes, blinking furiously at Dallas’ face not six inches from his. Water was dripping off the ends of his soaked hair and when Johnny reached to wipe it off the older hood shook his head like a dog and Johnny sat up, spitting. “Aw c’mon Dally, cut that out.”

“It’s just water, don't be a girl about it,” Dally teased. He was still shirtless but he’d thrown on some jeans, grass stains still on them but still cleaner than he normally wore. “Finally got all that fuckin’ mud off me from the race, I swear that shit sticks to yer goddamn skin.”

“Smells bad too,” Johnny offered dryly, and this time he _almost_ dodged out of the way when Dallas made a grab at him for the remark. He had both arms clasped around the back of Johnny’s neck in a hold that left him with not much else to do but kick. “ _C’mon_ Dallas.”

“Say uncle.”

“You say uncle.” Johnny managed a hard kick to Dallas’ shin then and he scrambled away when Dallas’ grip lightened and he hissed. “I dunno how yer still messin’ around after fightin’ and racin’ man, ain’t you tired?”

“Eh, a little, gets me too keyed up to pass out right after, unless it’s a real rough race or somethin’.”

Johnny hummed in response and let Dallas keep on talking. 

“I’m goin’ again in a few days, probably get thrown around more but hey, a couple bruises for the rent ain’t bad. An’ I ever tell you what fuckin’ Merrill was jawin’ about to me the other day? Somethin’ about fixin’ some race for me next week, get me on a ringer with a shit line up. I’ll tell ya, one’a these days I’m gonna get myself kicked for good, I was this close to just socking the guy and finally gettin’ it over with. Anyone catches wind I don’t jockey fair I’m gonna be hard up for a job, really.”

A nudge to Johnny’s leg and he lifted his head up. “Huh?”

“Y’know, you oughta jockey sometime, or practice or somethin’, yer small enough.”

“Gee thanks.”

Dallas slapped lightly at his knee. “Don’t mean it like that, you could be good if ya got the hang of it, makes decent money once ya do.”

“Well, there’s a problem with that, Dal.” Johnny scooted back a bit.

“An’ what’s that?” Dal lit up a cigarette found on the floor and Johnny held back a gag. 

“I’ve never ridden a horse before.”

Dallas sort of looked at him like he was joking for a few seconds before he realized Johnny really wasn’t laughing, then he got such a funny look on his face Johnny really _did_ bust out laughing and Dallas shoved at him in response. “Shut up, yer lyin’, I _know_ you know how to ride a horse. I’ve seen ya go down with the Curtis’ when Soda used to ride.”

Johnny shook his head again. “I went with sometimes but I never rode, ya usually had to pay somethin’ for it, I dunno. Just never learned.”

“That’s fuckin’ ridiculous,” Dallas said flat, as if Johnny had sworn at him. “I’ve known you fer years! And I never knew that.”

“Yeah well, know ya do, I guess.” Johnny went to light a cigarette from the pack they had lying on the bed, vaguely aware Dallas was still looking at him. “Hey-”

“I’ll teach ya then, tomorrow.”

“What?”

Dallas rolled his eyes, impatient. “I’ll _teach_ you, _tomorrow_.”

Johnny stared at him a moment and took a drag off his smoke. “Shit Dal, I didn’t mean like I was askin’ you-”

“I know, but I am anyway, bullshit you can’t ride a horse. Hell, I ain’t even from here and I know, _you_ oughta know,” Dallas said, nodding to himself and rolling his eyes, softening a bit when Johnny was looking at him like he was gone crazy. “C’mon it’ll be tuff, you’ll like it.”

It really was once in a blue moon Dallas did anything with any of them that didn’t have the chance ending with them in a holding cell, and hell, he still got to hang around Dally instead of wandering around and heading over to the Curtis’. And he didn’t have anything _against_ the idea. 

Dallas lit up in a way that got Johnny smiling again, not protesting when Dallas crawled up to lie on the other side of the bed and reached over to pull up a blanket off the ground and toss it over both of them. As it usually went, Dallas went from being wired to crashing, and he yawned heavy, mirroring Johnny. 

“I’ll wake ya up, and we’ll go,” Dallas said, then went quiet. Johnny looked over at him and finished his cigarette, putting it out and pulling another out of the pack. Dallas didn’t stir when he lit it and Johnny held the smoke in long before finally exhaling. It was weird seeing Dallas asleep, you’d barely be able to tell he was a hood if his face wasn’t busted. 

He smoked through a few more sticks and watched Dallas sleep for a while before his eyes got too heavy and he thought he might drop off holding the smoke and light the bed on fire or something. Dallas’ soft snoring put him to sleep faster than he would’ve liked to admit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy! Hope you enjoyed this chapter, the next one will be out soon. If you have any prompts or commentary, then talk to me at @rottingmanifesto on Tumblr! See you later.

**Author's Note:**

> hope u guys enjoyed this!!! we both loved writing it and are excited to finish up chapter two :))
> 
> kudos/comments are always appreciated!! if you have any feedback or anything i guarantee we'd both love to hear it lol, and if u want to leave prompts for either of us u can leave a comment or reach me (dyingpoet) on tumblr @staticky !! much luv 💖💞🌸💕


End file.
